


let's build a bridge where walls once stood

by istalria



Series: i swear i only fell for you on accident [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Post-Canon, aka i do what i want and no one can stop me, bonding via alcohol, uncomfortable bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24366418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/istalria/pseuds/istalria
Summary: “You really are pathetic,” she says.  It’s the same thing she said when she walked in on him in the first place, but there’s less bite to it now.  It’s almost sympathetic, and that irritates Kevin more than if she’d kept up the disdain.“What the fuck do you want, Allison?” he snaps. “To gloat?”“He would deserve it,” Allison says, listing her head to the side. “But no, that’s not why I’m here.”“Then what?” Kevin is tired, suddenly, weariness settling over him and sinking into his bones.“I’m not sure,” she says.
Relationships: (background), Kevin Day/Allison Reynolds, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: i swear i only fell for you on accident [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759423
Comments: 22
Kudos: 97





	let's build a bridge where walls once stood

**Author's Note:**

> have some Kevin/Allison because they deserve so much more love and I'm surprised more people don't ship them? enjoy, darlings :)

They put Riko in the ground that morning. 

Kevin went to the funeral, because how could he not? Showing up was a mistake, but not attending would have been a bigger one. Jean was there, too, his face still blackened and swollen and twisted in something like grief, or maybe hatred, when they lowered the casket. 

He didn’t say a word to Kevin. 

Kevin had taken a cab from the airport, and by the time the mourners began to disperse, he was already grateful for the foresight that saved him from drunkenly crashing a rental car. No one had stopped him from raiding Wymack’s alcohol cabinet before he left for West Virginia, but they probably should have; the flask in his pocket was nearly empty and his head spinning when he boarded his return flight.

Wymack took one look at him when he got back and handed him another bottle of vodka, so it’s really his fault that Kevin is sitting in the dark hallway outside his suite. He knows he has his keys somewhere, but the amount of liquor he’s imbibed in the past twelve hours is making it difficult to remember where they are, and Neil and Andrew drove out to Columbia last night after Kevin banned them from coming to the funeral with him. 

Just as well, really. He can drain this bottle just as easily out here as he could on the couch inside.

“God, you’re pathetic.”

Kevin glances up, squinting in the low light. He makes out a flash of long blonde hair and barely stifles a groan.

“Nice to see you, too,” Allison snipes. Guess he didn’t quite hold back his irritation, then. What a shame. “How was the funeral?”

The edge in her voice grates on Kevin’s already scattered nerves, and he musters up the deadliest glare he’s capable of with the way his head is spinning.

“Fuck off.”

Allison doesn’t look nearly as intimidated as he’d hoped. “Rude.”

She slides down the wall to sit opposite him, her knee bumping his leg as she makes herself comfortable. Before Kevin realizes what’s happening, she swipes the bottle from his hand and takes a long swig. 

“Hey,” he snaps, making a grab for it. “Give me that.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” she says, _tsk_ ing in mock disappointment. “Sharing is caring, haven’t you heard?”

She lets him have the bottle back, though, so he takes it as a victory, never mind the fact that his coordination is definitely impaired enough that she could have easily kept it away from him. 

Allison watches with something like disgust as Kevin gulps down more vodka. It’s not helping as much as he’d thought it would, but he’s hopeful the buzz will kick in and drown out his thoughts eventually.

“You really are pathetic,” she says. It’s the same thing she said when she walked in on him in the first place, but there’s less bite to it now. It’s almost sympathetic, and that irritates Kevin more than if she’d kept up the disdain.

“What the fuck do you want, Allison?” he snaps. “To gloat?”

“He would deserve it,” Allison says, listing her head to the side. “But no, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then what?” Kevin is tired, suddenly, weariness settling over him and sinking into his bones.

“I’m not sure,” she says. 

Kevin huffs a little, but doesn’t have the energy to retort. He assumes that’s the end of the conversation—he and Allison have very little to say to each other on a good day, much less a nightmare of a day like this one—so his head snaps up in surprise when she speaks again.

“When Seth died,” she says, slowly, like she’s choosing each word carefully, “nobody cared.”

Kevin should probably try to deny that. He should probably tell her _that’s not true, of course we cared_ , but he really doesn’t have the right or the inclination to comfort her.

“He was an asshole,” Allison says, and Kevin wholeheartedly agrees. “So it’s not like I don’t get _why_ , but—”

She breaks off, making a frustrated noise low in her throat. Kevin hopes that means she’ll stop talking soon, because he’s really not in the frame of mind to deal with the thread of guilt twisting through his stomach right now. 

“He was an asshole,” she says again. “But he never _hurt_ anyone. Never started a fight with someone who wouldn’t, or couldn’t, fight back. He didn’t hurt people like Riko did.”

Kevin winces a little. He tries not to, but the alcohol is making it difficult to suppress his reactions. Allison tracks the movement as she continues.

“Riko killed Seth,” she says, cold fury seeping into her tone. “He killed him, because he couldn’t handle someone telling him the truth for once in his goddamn life. He killed Seth and I’ll never forgive him for that, but...”

She trails off again, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. Kevin hadn’t realized how close they were sitting until her leg jostles his as she moves. She looks younger, more vulnerable, curled in on herself like this.

“Like I said,” Allison says, sounding more defeated than anything else. “No one cared when he died, not really, and I _hated_ that, because he wasn’t any worse than the rest of us. I mean, you’re just as much of an asshole as he was.”

It sounds like an accusation, but Kevin can’t bring himself to refute it, so he just sighs, and when he manages to speak, his voice is nearly a whisper. “What is this, Allison? Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because I loved him,” she says. “I never knew where we stood when he was alive, and I _know_ , realistically, that we probably wouldn’t have worked out, I know we were bad for each other, but I loved him and I hated him and his death nearly broke me.“

She heaves in a breath, like the words had hollowed her out. Kevin stares at her, and her mouth tilts up in a rueful approximation of a smile when she meets his eyes.

“Sound familiar yet?” she asks.

It takes Kevin’s fuzzy mind a moment to connect her question to the rest of this strange, strange conversation, but when his thoughts finally catch up with Allison’s meaning, something heavy drops into his stomach.

“Oh,” he says.

“Yeah,” Allison says, and now she’s whispering, too. “Oh.”

Her words ring through Kevin’s addled mind on repeat, filling the silence between them. _I loved him and I hated him and I loved him and I hated him, I loved him I loved him—_

“The others were there for me, when it happened,” she says. “It sucked, because I knew they didn’t really give a damn that he was gone beyond what it meant for the fucking lineup, but I had people to hold my hand and let me cry, and even if I hated them a little for not caring about him, at least I knew they cared about me. That I was hurting.”

_His death nearly broke me._

“I’ll never forgive Riko for what he did,” Allison says. “I’m glad he’s dead. But just because I don’t get why you miss him doesn’t mean you don’t, and I _do_ understand missing someone as much as you hated them.”

He nods numbly. He doesn’t think he’s capable of doing much else. He doesn’t even stop her when she reaches for his bottle and gulps down a mouthful.

“God,” she says, grimacing and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “You have terrible taste, Day.”

“Fuck off, Reynolds,” Kevin says, and his relief at being back on familiar ground is intense enough that he laughs a little when she holds the vodka out to him, screwing up her face in exaggerated disgust. 

Allison laughs too, but the sound is mischievous. “Oh, you don’t want me to fuck off just yet.”

She rummages through the purse on the ground beside her, coming up with a gleaming bottle of something dark.

“You bitch,” he says, wonderingly. “You’ve been holding out on me this whole time.” 

He’s definitely slurring by now, and Allison laughs again as she pops the top off the bottle and tilts her head back to down it.

“Much better,” she says, grinning. “Had to wash the taste of your godawful vodka out of my mouth somehow.” 

“Fuck off,” Kevin says again, and grabs the bottle from her. She lets him, and he tries not to be embarrassed by his clumsy swipe.

It’s whiskey, strong and dark on his tongue. Good whiskey, which is awful, actually, because he can practically feel Allison’s smugness radiating opposite him.

“What’d I tell you? Sharing is caring, dickhead.”

She steals the bottle back, but doesn’t drink immediately, toying with the label instead.

“Seriously, though,” she says. “I think the rest of the team might actually jump you if you mention He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in front of them, so if you need to—I don’t know, vent, or drink, or whatever it is that passes for emoting in your warped mind, you know where to find me.”

She sounds distinctly uncomfortable and more than a little embarrassed, taking a deep swig of whiskey as soon as she finishes speaking. Kevin watches the way her face flushes slightly, her mouth gleaming when she hands the bottle back to him.

“Thanks,” he says, just as uncomfortable, but just as genuine. He realizes suddenly that she must have come looking for him, must have known what state she'd find him in and brought alcohol. It warms something deep inside of him, a place the vodka and whiskey hadn’t reached.

“Yeah, whatever,” Allison says. “I just can’t stand seeing you mope around like this, it’s embarrassing.”

There’s no venom in her tone, though, and she’s given away far too much tonight to be believable anyway, so Kevin just flips her off as he drinks.

He tilts his head when he comes up for air, peering at Allison in the half-light. “Was that a Harry Potter reference?”

“ _That’s_ what you got out of all that?” she asks. “Honestly, fuck you, Kevin.”

She sounds amused, like she knows that’s not what he took away from her attempt at reaching out. Kevin appreciates it more than he would’ve expected—not that he could have expected any of this in the first place—that someone Riko hurt so deeply could offer to be there for Kevin in his terrible, contradictory grief.

"Allison," he says, and forces the words out, because for the first time, he means them. "I'm sorry."

She doesn't have to ask what he's referring to. A corner of her mouth lifts, just a little.

"I'm sorry too," she says. 

_I'm glad he's dead_ , she'd said, unapologetic and undeniably honest. He knows she meant it, just like he knows she means her apology. It's not sorrow, it's sympathy—for him, not for Riko, and it's more than he deserves from her. 

He passes her the bottle.

**Author's Note:**

> goddamnit, I feel a series coming on...I'll definitely end up writing more of these two
> 
> I hope you enjoyed my midnight word vomit!
> 
> Stay fabulous!


End file.
